


Pascal's Triangle Re-revisited

by yeah_alright



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Community (TV show) AU, Fantasizing, Harry is Annie - Freeform, I can (and have) imagined so many different casting variations working in this AU, Louis is Jeff, M/M, Masturbation, Taking place between Pascal's Triangle Revisited and Anthropology 101, Trouble Sleeping, Zayn is Britta, Zourry potential, but for this I wanted Zourry so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeah_alright/pseuds/yeah_alright
Summary: On the eve of his second Fall semester at community college, Louis finds he can’t sleep, too anxious about seeing his study group for the first time after an eventful last night of the Spring semester and a Summer of silence. Thoughts of two study group members in particular are keeping him awake. Maybe fantasizing about them both can help him get to sleep.~A Community AU snippet taking place between Seasons 1 and 2
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13
Collections: Prompt 5.4: Board





	Pascal's Triangle Re-revisited

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge for the prompt "board". 
> 
> I feel like this fic might be for like 6 people, max. I hope those people enjoy, especially Sage, who didn't stop me from doing it. <3
> 
> Of course, I hope anyone else who gives it a shot does as well. :)

“Argghh!” 

Louis kicks his comforter off him with a dramatic flourish, punctuating the action with a petulant sigh. 

He reaches blindly toward his bedside table, grasping for his phone. When his hand finds it, he turns his head and opens his eyes just enough to see the time, wincing at the bright light of the screen.

3:28 a.m.

“God damn it.”

He drops his phone and flops his head back onto his pillow, staring straight up at the ceiling, not bothering to close his eyes again. What’s the point? Louis’s barely been able to sleep the past week, and tonight’s been by far the worst. Because tomorrow – or, rather, today actually, _fuck_ – is the first day of classes. 

Louis’s certainly not anxious about starting his second year at a community college (especially when said community college is Greendale) because of the rigorous course load – he’s not exactly worried he won’t be able to keep up in introductory Anthropology.

But the first day of classes means the first day of seeing his study group. And that means seeing Zayn and Harry, two of his classmates – two of his friends – whom Louis hasn’t seen, or even talked to, since the last day of last year. 

Two friends he’s been avoiding since he ran away from one right after his proclamation of love for Louis, only to end up kissing the other within minutes. 

Under normal circumstances, Louis would be more worried about facing someone who’d publicly professed his love – albeit a bit out of nowhere – and then been abandoned and ignored for months. But Louis’s pretty confident Zayn had just gotten caught up in a weird competition with Louis’ ex who had suddenly shown up at the end of the semester wanting to get back together. There’s no way Zayn is actually in love with Louis. They had only slept together once, and it was good (really good), but once they had relieved several months’ worth of sexual tension, they’d slipped back into being friends pretty naturally and it hadn’t happened again. 

But feeling sure Zayn isn’t actually heartbroken doesn’t mean Louis doesn’t feel like a complete jerk for running away from him that night and then not reaching out at all over the summer. And sure Zayn didn’t reach out either (not so much as a texted request for cat-sitting help) and sure Louis is actually pretty annoyed with Zayn for causing a scene in the first place, but he’s thought about it enough over the past few months to know there’s a decent chance his annoyance is more of a cover to distract himself from feeling like an asshole for the way he reacted. 

Louis shifts uncomfortably and sighs wearily, raising both arms and interlacing his fingers behind his head. 

Speaking of being an asshole. 

Harry.

Harry's who he's more worried about seeing.

Sweet, earnest Harry. Harry who’s absolutely adorable – even when he’s trying to be formidable – and sometimes (and always accidentally) even sexy. Harry whose maturity and ambition makes it conveniently (or inconveniently, really) easy to forget he’s only 19 and therefore much too young for Louis’ occasional impure thoughts about him. 

Harry who’d surprised Louis on that last night of the year, right after Louis had fled the dance like the emotional coward he is, backing away from the expectant stares of Zayn, and Professor Grimshaw, and half the faculty and student body, and escaping into the night. Harry who’d unexpectedly been there, just outside the building, even though he’d told Louis mere hours before that he was secretly transferring with Mitch. To another school out of state. Who’d said goodbye to all of them before apparently having a change of heart, deciding he wanted to live in the moment. 

Who’d apparently decided that living in the moment not only meant staying at Greendale, but kissing Louis, right there in the parking lot. 

A tentative kiss, lasting only a second, maybe two. But one that had immediately drawn Louis back in for another. Louis whose head was already swimming in the confusion of that night when Harry had pressed their lips together, adding all the conflicting thoughts Louis’d had about him all year to the swirl. The way Harry had raised his eyebrows after pulling back from the kiss, looking at Louis with a combination of pure nerves and hope, Louis had never stood a chance. Of course he’d leaned back in. Of course he’d pulled Harry closer to him as they’d kissed again, longer and firmer and with more intensity and intention, bringing his hand up to nestle his fingers in Harry’s soft curls. 

Fuck. It’s no wonder he can’t sleep. What’s he going to say to Harry when he sees him? What’s he going to say to Zayn? How’s he supposed to act around either of them? God knows how either of them is going to act around _him._

“How do I get myself into these messes?” he asks aloud to no one. 

He conned his way into leading a study group as a way to get with the hot guy in Spanish class and ended up leading a study group with _two_ of the hot guys in Spanish class, that’s how. 

That first week had been something, he muses, a smile creeping on his lips for the first time since he’d tried to fall asleep. He’d met plenty of people those first few days, but two in particular had made an impression.

Zayn with his utter disinterest – contempt, even – for Louis’ dogged pursuits, calling Louis on his obvious attempts to flirt with him under the guise of wanting to help Zayn prepare for their first Spanish test. As much as Louis enjoyed an easy score from time to time, he had to admit it was a huge turn on meeting someone who was harder to get. And not just playing hard to get as part of some playful cat and mouse game, but actually hard to get. Zayn was anything but easy. World-weary and suspicious but somehow completely forthright and honest as well. Louis could tell there were ways in which Zayn tried too hard, but he was not someone to be underestimated. He was gorgeous – stunningly so – but that very quickly became incidental to the other aspects of him that intrigued Louis. Louis knew Zayn was worthy of Louis’ interest from the start. More than worthy. Too good for Louis, probably. At least for the part of Louis that did things like lie about being a board-certified tutor to try to ensnare beautiful men in his web of sexual conquests. 

Board-certified tutor. Louis shakes his head at the absurdity of his claim and he immediately flashes back to the first words Harry ever said to him, that first study group meeting.

_“What board certifies a tutor?”_

He’d asked it with such suspicion, almost like it was rhetorical. Like he knew Louis was completely full of shit and was only asking to call his bluff. 

Honestly, Louis’d loved that too. That Harry had seen through him just as easily as Zayn had, though Harry’s assessment of Louis had been based on intuition rather than experience. 

They were so different, Harry and Zayn. Looks, vibes, histories, personalities. On paper they had nothing at all in common. And in reality there wasn’t much either. 

But Louis was drawn to them both. 

Desired them both. 

Not always. And not in the same way. 

And he tried his best to shove down his attraction (and his feelings), but he could never fully pretend it wasn’t there. 

And he still can’t. Even after the mess he’d left things in. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters into the dark empty space. On a frustrated sigh, he brings one of his arms down from where it’s been resting above his head and his hand lands with a smack right at the crease between his groin and his thigh. He absentmindedly shifts his hand up a few inches and begins stroking his thumb back and forth, crossing over the elastic band of his boxer briefs. His cock twitches in mild interest at its proximity to the subtle friction. 

Oh, right. 

Louis swallows dryly. 

If anything’s likely to get him to sleep…

He closes his eyes and presses his head back into his pillow, settling himself into position and humming with acceptance at what he’s committed to do. As he slowly reaches his right hand into his briefs, Louis brings his other arm down and rests his left hand on his chest, his fingers ready to attend to his already-pebbling nipples.

Licking his lips, Louis starts lazily stroking himself, keeping his grip loose as his cock begins to swell. 

He’s still a bit anxious, grunting lowly with frustration at how slowly his dick is responding to his efforts. He shifts his head on the pillow impatiently, huffing a sigh and squeezing his eyes shut as he wills his brain to conjure a few images to help him along. 

And, fuck. 

He really should have expected this, he supposes. But somehow he’s still a bit shocked when the first flashes are of Zayn. 

_The night of the paintball game. Sitting on top of the study room table next to Louis, whose shirt is off to give Zayn the access he needs to tend to the cut Louis’d gotten on his stomach. Zayn’s fingers work with a tenderness that does nothing to stem the intense sexual tension that had been thickly surrounding them for weeks leading up to that moment._

Louis’ finger catches the bead of precum at the tip of his cock and he shudders at the feeling of it spreading over the length of him. It’s still a little too dry, but he doesn’t want to stop long enough to grab lotion or even lick his palm and risk interrupting the images now flashing through his mind of the way Zayn had looked when they’d fucked on that very table minutes after Zayn finished bandaging him up. 

“Fuck!” he gasps, his cock fully hard now as he remembers the salty taste of Zayn’s own, the feel of him filling Louis’ mouth, the sizzling electricity that had filled the air due to the awareness – unspoken by either of them but felt by both – that anyone could have walked in on them and found them naked and sweaty and entangled on top of that table. 

Harry could have walked in on them. 

“Oh, God,” Louis moans, his dick growing hot in his hand, simultaneously wanting a better glide and demanding more friction. His hips buck and he pinches his nipple to distract himself from the roughness of his strokes, feeling too guilty at his own thoughts to allow himself any relief that saliva or lube might afford him. 

The spark that shoots through him at the sudden pressure on his nipple causes his back to arch off the bed and a new vision fills his mind. 

_Harry sitting next to him at the study table, a mess of open books and notes spread out before them as they prepare for their championship debate. Harry shooting him a look – subtle, but questioning. Harry giving a decisive nod in response to Louis’ suggestion that he might do better on the debate stage if he went off book a bit, loosened up. The flash of fire – tempered with a note of uncertainty – in Harry’s green eyes as he ran his hand through his curly hair and then slowly but determinedly undid the top button of his shirt, then the next, and the next, before raising his eyes again to meet Louis’ own._

_“What do you think?”_

A guttural moan tumbles from Louis’ lips as he squeezes his nipple harder and quickens his strokes, gathering more precum with his thumb as he swipes it over the head of his now angrily dripping cock, spreading it along the length of himself as his hand squeezes harder and begins flying fast enough up and down his shaft that Louis knows it won’t be long now. 

As his hips begin to buck more frantically, his ass clenching with each thrust, Louis’ left hand moves from his now overly sensitive nipple and reaches up to grip his hair, pulling lightly as glimpses of last year flash more erratically. He’s unable to focus on any individual image but is overwhelmed by each one just the same. 

_Zayn’s deep, syrupy voice on the drunken voice mail he’d left Louis shortly before Valentine’s Day._

_Harry’s wide, glistening Disney eyes when he’d tried to convince Louis to do something...or not do someone._

_Zayn’s soft, full lips pressing into Louis’ in the middle of the quad for the benefit of Louis’ ridiculous day-seizing professor._

_Harry’s skin-tight skeleton costume and the way he seemed to put an extra swivel in his hips as he walked around his Día de Muertos party._

Throwing a party for extra credit. 

“God, that precocious little….” Louis sputters as the tell-tale heat begins coiling in his gut. 

Not quite yet, though. Want more.

_Zayn in a black unitard, up on stage at the dance recital, embarrassed but determined._

_A million little glances with each of them, across the study room table or the lunch room or the hallway._

_Long, full eyelashes and pink, lush lips and disapproving glares and mostly-gentle smacks to his shoulder and soft, shy smiles and feigned gasps of disbelief._

_Exclamations of “Louis!” from either of them, both of them._

Fuck. Both of them. Together. 

_Covered in oil, wrestling in a kiddie pool, fighting about some stupid cause that Louis had barely registered at the time and definitely can’t be fucked to care about now._

_Shoving at each other. Hair matted and t-shirts clinging. Slippery._

“F-fuuuuuuuck!” Louis shouts as he comes, spurting thick ribbons across his stomach and arched chest.

“Fuck,” he whispers again as he comes down, languidly stroking himself a few final times before falling back against the bed, spent and sweaty and exhausted. “God, fuck.”

Two distinct smiles flash behind his eyes as his breath evens out, and he huffs out a laugh. 

He should have no trouble sleeping soundly for the final few hours before his alarm is set to wake him. 

But it’s going to be an interesting first day back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <33 Tumblr post is [here](https://uhoh-but-yeah-alright.tumblr.com/post/625444939702190080) if you're inclined to share. 
> 
> To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/board), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1-3), [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works). You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge [here](https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/622306139518926848/wordplay-2020-every-week-for-five-weeks-a-prompt).
> 
> A million thanks to [Sus](https://lululawrence.tumblr.com) for organizing this fun-as-hell challenge; to all the other writers who participated; anyone who read any of my lovingly but hastily written contributions; and to beautiful, supportive sunfish, [Sage](https://a-brighter-yellow.tumblr.com), for indulging me and my ideas the entire five weeks. <333


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